After the Funeral
by Crookshanks22
Summary: Why didn't Susan Bones join in the Battle of Hogwarts? What happened in the Hufflepuff common room that night? Six sketches, starring Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, and Ernie Macmillan. Written postHBP, now AU. This story uses my old Neville pairing.
1. After the Funeral

There had been a horrible scene the day before, when Hannah Abbott was taken out of Herbology to be told her mother was dead. They had not seen Hannah since.

-- J. K. Rowling, _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_, chapter 11

I've noticed that several fan sites are assuming that Hannah Abbott is gone for good, and this makes me sad. I believe she'll be back, for, as J. K. Rowling has consistently pointed out in _Goblet of Fire_, _Order of the Phoenix_, and _Half-Blood Prince_, people die, the survivors learn to live with their grief, and life goes on.

* * *

**After the Funeral**

When the Galleon, the enchanted Galleon that Hermione had given her, throbbed in her pocket, she felt it. And she wanted to go. Ernie didn't want her to.

Her name was Susan Bones. She was pretty, she was bright. Her aunt had been head of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry. Her uncle had been a prominent member of the Order of the Phoenix. If the wizarding world had had an aristocracy, the Boneses would have been it. They were well-off, but more than that, they were famous. The citations, the decorations.

The graves.

Infant aristocrat though she was, Susan had been born into a family that was falling apart. She was named for her grandmother, who was murdered just before she was born. Her earliest memory—it felt like a memory—was of visiting her Uncle Edgar's house. One fire and five dead bodies; in the kitchen, her mother screaming. Except that that had also happened before she was born, so it must have been a photograph or something.

Why would anyone take a photograph of five dead bodies?

The day after the Death Eaters broke Azkaban, nine-tenths of the Hogwarts student body unfurled their copies of the _Daily Prophet_ and read, _Geoffrey Jugson, convicted of the brutal murder of Edgar Bones, his wife, and family_. And she was an instant celebrity. But Susan unfurled her copy of the _Daily Prophet_ that morning and read, _Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom_. And she thought, oh. She had noticed, long ago, that Neville didn't seem to have parents. That was a little odd, if you thought about it. Most people did have parents, even if they were dead. Now, staring at the _Daily Prophet_, she thought, oh. Maybe my family was lucky after all.

Tonight, standing in the Hufflepuff common room, she felt the Galleon throb in her pocket. She would have bet anything that Ernie wasn't even carrying his. She walked straight across the room and thrust it in his hand.

He looked at her.

"It's the signal. Outside the Room of Requirement, now."

"Susan, I've got a ream of potions homework to finish tonight."

"Ernie, it's hot. Ernie—I think this might be real."

"Susan, you aren't going."

"You signed the parchment, Ernie. We all signed. Harry told us what we were getting into. You said—you said it was the most important thing—"

"Susan, that was last year. It was—there wasn't a war on last year."

Oh, right, Ernie. You only fight prissy incompetent teachers. You only fight when there isn't a war on. Is that what you mean?

Hannah had broken up with him after her mother was killed. Ernie didn't want to listen as much as Hannah wanted to talk. In private, he complained Hannah was depressive, morose. Hannah was obsessed with the war.

Hannah says you're insensitive, and you run to _me_ for comfort?

Pardon me, Ernie, but Hannah's not the only one who's had a murder in the family. Hannah's not the only one with dead bodies on her mind.

"Ernie, this is serious. Things have happened here before. Two years ago—the Triwizard Cup. Last year—there was that battle at the Ministry of Magic. Harry went to save his friend—"

Ernie stroked his upper lip, where he liked to think he had a moustache. "Harry is in an unusual position, Susan. Harry has—unusual powers. We all know that. What he decides to do, isn't a good guide for us."

"Hermione and Ron—"

"Hermione's brilliant. She was doing NEWT-level work before she passed her OWLs. And Ron—Ron's his best mate. Can't stand to be left behind. But I'm a prefect, and I—"

"Bet you Neville goes." She had no idea why she'd said that. Why Neville?

Ernie laughed. "Neville would be even less help than we'd be."

"Bet he goes anyway."

Ernie was the sort of boy her parents liked: intelligent, responsible, ambitious. And most of the time he was the sort of boy Susan liked, too. Most of the time.

Now, in the silence that unfolded between them, she rebelled. She gathered up her books and parchment, and she said, over her shoulder, "I'm going, Ernie."

He grabbed her wrist. "Susan, don't go."

"I'm going, Ernie."

"Susan—"

Ernie had almost kissed her, last Saturday night. That had to mean something, because he wasn't usually very sociable around exams. He tended to get a little obsessive, before exams.

She would bet that if she lifted a finger he'd do it again.

"Ernie," she said quietly. Ernie, take your hand off my wrist.

"Susan! I l-lo-like you."

She couldn't believe what he'd almost said.

She didn't know he felt like that.

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

She tossed her head. She carried her books and parchment to the sixth-year girls' dormitory. She put on stout shoes. She replaited her hair. She tucked her wand in the pocket of her cardigan.

When she came back, the porthole wouldn't open. He'd done something to the door. She rattled it three or four times, and Hannah burst into tears.

And so, all through the night, as the Battle of Hogwarts raged in the Astronomy Tower, Susan Bones sat on the sofa in the Hufflepuff common room, holding Hannah Abbott's hand and telling her—not really believing, but telling her anyway—that no one was going to die.

But as she talked on and on, in a placid, soothing tone, half her brain kept thinking that Harry and Ron and Hermione were out there fighting. Even Neville—why did she keep thinking about Neville? She just had this feeling that Neville was there. Neville was fighting the people who were the reason she didn't have grandparents. The reason she didn't have cousins. And she was sitting on a sofa, with her wand in the pocket of her cardigan, saying, "Hannah, Hannah, no one's going to die. No one else is going to die."

Turned out she was wrong about that.

In the morning, when the battle was over, after Ernie had undone whatever it was that he had done to the common room door, Professor Sprout told them that Albus Dumbledore was dead. And Ernie fainted.

She left him to Hannah. She shouldn't have done it, but she did. She ran to the infirmary. She needed to see who else was injured. Who else was dead.

At the far end of the room, there were screens around a bed. At the near end of the room, Neville Longbottom, in frog-print pajamas, was rubbing his eyes.

"You were there," she said.

"I didn't really do much," said Neville. "Death Eaters kept shooting spells at me, and they kept missing, and then I went flying and hit something and passed out."

"But you were there." It was the only thing she could think of to say. She sounded like an idiot. A gawky adolescent fool, in front of—Neville Longbottom? But he was there.

Her name was Susan Bones. She was pretty, she was bright. If the wizarding world had had an aristocracy, the Boneses would have been it.

And now, after the funeral, she stood alone, under a tree beside the lake, staring after that chubby, clumsy, brave, and winsome boy, Neville Longbottom, and seeing him for the first time.


	2. The Tortured Soul of Hannah Abbott

**The Tortured Soul of Hannah Abbot**

All right, so yes, she fell apart when her mother died.

Wouldn't you?

If your mother was murdered by a Death Eater?

If your mother, who wasn't an Auror and wasn't a fighter and wasn't even a very powerful witch, just a nice simple woman with a nice simple job and a couple of children and some really good spells for biscuits and cake, was murdered? By a Death Eater? In this war that wasn't supposed to be happening, not when you were sixteen and wanted to be thinking about other things, but was happening anyway?

Whatever she had said to him—and she had said a lot of things, she had said some things she didn't want to think about right now—she still liked Ernie.

She was in love with Ernie.

At least, she thought she was. Sometimes it was hard to tell when you were fifteen and V-V-Voldemort was coming back and OWLs were next term and someone put his arm around you and you were both scared out of your wits but you just really, really wanted to be with him. So you did, and you didn't think.

But now that you weren't doing anymore, you started thinking, and you thought, well, maybe I was in love with him.

Maybe he was in love with me. Was in love with me.

And now he's in love with Susan. Because I fell apart when my mother died.

I guess my mother isn't coming back.

A lot of people are dead now, and none of them are coming back.

Who's going to die next?

And when is Susan going to hook up with Ernie?

Except that Susan said no. That must have been what happened. Susan said no.

Susan, the girl who had everything, said no. Susan, who was smart and good-looking and good-natured and stable, and had Ernie's eyes following her across the common room every night. Susan said no.

What is Susan up to?

Susan is sitting on the sofa, holding your hand and saying, "Hannah, Hannah, no one's going to die. No one else is going to die." And you think, how does she know that? She doesn't really know that. Someone's going to die. I feel it in my bones. Someone else is going to die.

And Susan doesn't really want to be sitting here on the sofa, holding my hand. Susan wants to be fighting. Susan could be out there, fighting, and Ernie could be sitting here on the sofa, holding my hand, instead of uncharming the porthole the minute Susan's back is turned and tramping out into the corridor with all those pesky pajama-ed first-years and second-years who just want to gawk at the show. Who don't understand what it's like when your mother is dead.

Except that Ernie doesn't want to be holding my hand. He wants to be holding Susan's hand. And if Susan was out there fighting, Susan might die.

And you really, really, really don't want Susan to die.

Susan, the girl who has everything. Susan, who is smart and good-looking and good-natured and stable, and has Ernie's eyes following her across the common room every night. Susan, whose grandparents and aunt and uncle and cousins were all murdered by Death Eaters. But not her mother.

No, that's me, Hannah Abbott, the girl whose mother was murdered.

Someone is dead. I feel it in my bones. Who's dead?

I ought to be brave. I need to be brave. Like Susan.

But my mother is dead.

And I'm still in love with Ernie.


	3. Safe

**Safe**

Girls don't make sense. They really don't.

They always turn on you, when you're trying to keep them safe.

They wear their hair in thick brown plaits—or maybe in blonde pigtails, but for now, let's say brown plaits—and they do the most incalculable things. They're brave when you want them to be cuddly, and they're cuddly when you want them to be brave. They're weepy when you don't have time, and then when you do have time, they don't want you anymore. And they just won't let you keep them safe.

She was right about the Galleon. She was absolutely right. You stopped carrying yours a year ago, after the D.A. got busted, because you never thought the Galleon was anything more than a device (and gosh, Hermione, a pretty cool device) for scheduling meetings. All right, so maybe you took it out a couple times over the summer, to see if you could figure out how to do a Protean Charm yourself, but you never thought you were going to _use_ that Galleon again. Because you never thought there would be a Battle of Hogwarts. Even now, you couldn't believe that Albus Dumbledore, whom you worshipped, because he was brilliant and he made you a prefect and he was the only one You-Know-Who had ever feared, was letting a battle happen inside Hogwarts. But she said it was real, she kept insisting it was real, and even though you weren't sure you believed her, you charmed the porthole to keep her safe, and now you were hearing crashes and shouts and explosions, and someone had seen the Dark Mark above the Astronomy Tower, and even though this couldn't be happening, you knew it was happening. And you were a prefect, and you had to keep everyone safe.

Even when those cheeky twelve-year-olds begged you to take them out into the corridor, and you checked that she wasn't looking and you uncharmed the porthole and you took them out for a minute, you spent the entire time counting noses and looking over your shoulder.

You just had to keep everyone safe.

Because she was right, you know. It must be awfully hard if your mother got murdered.

People were getting murdered all the time now.

Imagine if anyone in Hufflepuff got murdered.

Cedric Diggory, for example. Cedric Diggory was the first to go. And then Dumbledore made you a prefect, and you thought, I have to keep everyone safe. Not like last year. This year, everyone has to be safe.

So you joined the D.A., and you made it your top priority, because you knew it was the most important thing you were doing that year, even though OWLs were coming up and you had to get good OWLs. Even though you sometimes had other things on your mind, like, well, blonde pigtails. You made the D.A. a priority, because you were a prefect, and you had to keep everyone safe.

And for the first year, it pretty much worked. Professor Dumbledore disappeared for a while, and Professor McGonagall got attacked, and Dolores Umbridge was a total git, and so was Draco Malfoy. But in Hufflepuff, the first year you were a prefect, everyone was safe.

Then the war started, and her mother got murdered.

And you realized that the war was going to happen to you anyway, even if you were a prefect, and even if you took extra lessons in Defense against the Dark Arts, and even if you did your damnedest to keep everyone safe.

And she got mad at you, and the one good thing in your life (aside from being a prefect) broke up, and all there was left to do was study all the time.

You had studied a lot this year, but you still weren't sure you had figured out how to keep everyone safe.

And if your thoughts sometimes strayed to someone who didn't seem to care so much, whether or not she was safe, what of that? Because the one you really wanted didn't want you anymore, and there was a war on, and it was coming too close for comfort, and you were studying all the time now, and you still hadn't figured out how to keep everyone safe.

Of course, it was really too soon to say, "I love you." You realized that when you tried to say it, and you stopped. You just didn't want to wait too long. Because you didn't say it last time, and you should have. You realized that now.

It was really a mistake to meet the right girl too soon. When you were fifteen, and you hadn't a notion in hell of what you were doing. You should have gone out with someone else first, made your mistakes on her.

Not on someone who mattered.

You just wanted her not to be crying all the time. You wanted her to be happy again, like last year, before her mother was murdered. You wanted her to be safe.

You just wanted everyone to be safe.


	4. The Tortured Soul of Hannah Abbott, 2

**The Tortured Soul of Hannah Abbott, part 2**

It's funny how these things happen.

So Professor Sprout announced that Albus Dumbledore was dead, and Ernie fainted, and Susan ran off God knows where, and you really didn't want to do without her, but you thought, all of a sudden, I'm a prefect. And I'm supposed to keep everyone safe.

So you did a _Silencio_ charm on the common room, and you sent all the first-years to bed with chocolate and handkerchiefs. And you did an _Aguamenti_ charm in Ernie's face, which was a therapeutic shock, and he woke up. And you sent Justin Finch-Fletchley to the sixth-year boys' dormitory to get the bottle of fire-whiskey that he didn't think you knew was there, and you poured a good stiff peg for Professor Sprout, because she looked like she was going to faint too, and you didn't want her to faint. And you tried to tuck Professor Sprout up on the sofa under an afghan, but she wouldn't stay, because she said she had to go and see the headmistress. And you thought, headmistress? And you had to sit down for a minute, because you realized then—you really realized—that Albus Dumbledore was dead.

Just like your mother.

Then Susan came back, and she told you who else was dead, and it was only one Death Eater and Albus Dumbledore. And you thought, this could be worse. It's very, very bad, and too many people are dead already, and they aren't coming back, but we haven't lost the war yet. And you tried to explain this to Ernie. You poked him and prodded him and reminded him he was a prefect and it was his job to keep everyone safe.

Ernie never said a word about getting back together. You just sort of—were. And it was a good thing you didn't have to talk about it, because talking about it would have taken time, and there was really just an awful lot to do. Because Hogwarts didn't close, even though Albus Dumbledore was dead. And when September came, there was a whole squadron of cheeky little first-years who didn't understand that the classrooms moved around and kept putting their feet through all the rotten stairs and didn't know how to defend themselves from boggarts and pixies, much less Death Eaters. It seemed very strange, that there could be first-years at a time like this, when there was a war on and people were dying and your mother was dead, but there they were, and you were a prefect, and you had to keep them safe.

So you taught them where to look for the classrooms, and you taught them which stairs to avoid. You taught them _Expelliarmus_, and you taught them _Impedimenta_. You taught them the Shield Charm, and you taught them Stunning. You tried to explain about dementors, and Inferii, and Fenrir Greyback, even though you weren't sure you should be scaring eleven-year-olds with tales of Fenrir Greyback. But you had to do it, because you had to keep them safe, and you never knew what scrap of information might help keep them safe. You taught them the Bat-Bogey Hex that Ginny Weasley taught you, and one of them used it on Pansy Parkinson, and you were very, very proud.

And you thought, if Hogwarts runs out of teachers—which could happen, if people keep dying, because people keep dying—then I'll stand up and take my turn. Even though I'm not as smart as Susan.

Because I'm pretty sure Susan's not going to be here.

Because Susan spends all her time skulking around the library with Ginny and Neville, trying to get them to tell her what Harry and Ron and Hermione are up to. Because Harry and Ron and Hermione aren't here anymore. Just like Susan isn't—well, you really don't know, because she isn't telling you, but you just have this feeling that at some point Susan isn't going to be here. Susan is still carrying that enchanted Galleon in her pocket, and she keeps disappearing. She keeps coming back to the dormitory after curfew, and you have to pretend you don't notice, because she isn't allowed to do that, and you're a prefect, but you're not going to try to stop her from fighting anymore. Even though there's a war on and your mother is dead. Even though people keep dying. Even though you really, really, really don't want Susan to die.

Because Susan—well, Susan has to do what Susan has to do. And you miss her, but you've got an awful lot of other things on your mind these days. And you've just got an awful lot to do. Especially if Hogwarts starts running out of teachers.

You don't really remember now, why you broke up with Ernie. Except that it was a very good thing that you did, because if you hadn't broken up with him, you couldn't have gotten back together.

And that would have been a tragedy.

Because when you were fifteen, you were doing and not thinking. And then when you were sixteen, you were thinking and not doing. But now you are seventeen, and you're thinking _and_ doing, and it's incredible. You didn't know you were allowed to be this happy. Especially not when there's a war on and your mother is dead.

You think there must be a by-law.

You aren't going to sleep with him, though.

Not when you're seventeen. Not when you're still at school. Not when there's a war on, and your mother is dead. Not before he asks you to marry him.

Besides, if you have sex, you might have a baby.

Though on second thought—

Well, the thing is, you actually kind of want to have a baby.

And Ernie would be good with a baby. Protective.

And it sure isn't much fun going home now your mother is dead.

It's a lot more fun to be with Ernie.

Well, not fun exactly, because there's still a war on, and you're worried about Susan, and she's still carrying that enchanted Galleon in her pocket, and she keeps disappearing. And you've started a supplementary Defense against the Dark Arts class for all those cheeky little Hufflepuffs, because Ernie says you have to keep them safe, and you know he's right, and you're pretty sure now that more people are going to die. So not fun. Just—good. It works. It really works.

So maybe you might as well get married. Even though you're seventeen, and there's a war on, and your mother is dead, and you're pretty sure that more people are going to die, and sex can sometimes lead to babies.

Now all you have to do is figure how to make him propose.

Because life goes on.


	5. Not Too Safe

**Not Too Safe**

"I know why it's happened, of course. It's all this uncertainty with You-Know-Who coming back, people think they might be dead tomorrow, so they're rushing all sorts of decisions they'd normally take time over. It was the same last time he was powerful, people eloping left, right, and center—"

"Including you and Dad," said Ginny slyly.

-- J. K. Rowling, _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_, chapter 5

* * *

So she sits you down one night in the Hufflepuff common room and she says, "Ernie, what are you planning to do after Hogwarts?"

And you think, after Hogwarts? _After_ Hogwarts? Because I'm not sure Hogwarts can survive without me. Not when there's a war on. I mean, I'm a prefect.

And you think, "you"? What does she mean by "you"? I don't like this stuff about "you." Because I thought it was "we."

And you say, "Hannah, I think what you meant to say, is, 'What are we planning to do after we take our NEWTs?'"

And she says, "So it's we?"

And you say, "Well, I think so."

And she says, "Well, I think so too, but in that case I think we ought to get engaged."

So you say, "All right, then, Hannah, will you marry me?" Which isn't very romantic, but it's efficient, and she doesn't seem to mind, because after all, there's a war on, and you're prefects, and you've both just got an awful lot to do.

And you write to your parents, but she only writes to her father, because her mother is dead, and she's not even sure about her father, because he's in St. Mungo's now, seeing an Emotional Management Healer three times a day, because he cracked up because too many people are dead.

At least Hannah's okay.

And she tells you she wants to meet you after breakfast on Saturday morning, by the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls to dance ballet. That's where the D.A. met, come to think of it. When there wasn't a war on and her mother wasn't dead, and you still thought you could keep people safe. And she screws up her eyes and you think she's going to cry. And you want to say, Hannah, you're safe.

But instead she says, "Don't worry, Ernie, it's just something Ginny told me."

And a door pops out of the wall, and she opens it, and you both go in.

And you're in an airy, sunlit room dominated by one large oak bedstead. And there's some other furniture, too, but somehow the bed seems to be the main point.

And you say, "But I thought this was some sort of a laboratory for Defense against the Dark Arts."

And she says, "No, Ginny told me, it's the Room of Requirement. You think about what you need, and it appears."

And you say, "_This_ is what you need?" Because Hannah's very cuddly, but she's also a prefect, and you've never even dared to _mention_ things like this.

And she says, "Well, I think so. Don't you?"

Hell, yes.

So you take her in your arms and you hug her and you kiss her and you practically tear her skirt off and you push her down on the enormous oak bed—

Which come to think of it, you probably shouldn't have done, because this is a school full of children, and you're a prefect.

Prefects aren't even supposed to think about sex.

Though on second thought, even Dumbledore couldn't expect that. And none of those cheeky little Hufflepuffs knows about the Room of Requirement.

It gets a little lonely sometimes, in a castle full of cheeky little twelve-year-olds. In a castle where the seventh-years keep disappearing. In a castle where most of your friends are gone, and you're left with Hannah, and you're the prefects, and you both run around day and night trying to keep everyone safe.

Hogwarts is running out of adults, and all those cheeky little first-years and second-years are left with you. At least you can tell them not to put their feet through the rotten stairs.

And you think, now that Harry and Hermione aren't here anymore, I'm the best at Potions. I suppose, if I had to, I could teach Potions. And Horace Slughorn would be very grateful to me, and he might give me a leg up at the Ministry after the war. Because your career at the Ministry, which you've been planning since you were six, is on hold now, because you know that Hogwarts can't survive without you. Not when there's a war on.

Then all of sudden, Ginny Weasley pops up out of nowhere and she shoves a book in your hand. It's a grubby old Potions textbook that Harry gave her, and you think it's a sign.

And you think, I could—but does this mean Ginny's going? Ginny is turning seventeen soon, and she just gave you her Potions textbook. Not a good sign.

And you think, Hannah is going to have a very hard time if Ginny disappears. Now that Susan is gone.

A lot of people are gone now, and Hogwarts is running out of adults. Hogwarts is running out of teachers. A lot of the protections round the castle went when Dumbledore died, and Horace Slughorn just had another death threat. And he told you that he's going. He didn't tell you where. It's really very worrisome, when you haven't even taken your NEWTs yet.

It's really pretty silly to think you could teach Potions when you haven't passed your NEWTs yet.

However.

There's a war on. And Hannah's already teaching that class in Defense against the Dark Arts.

An Auror would be better, of course, but the Aurors are busy right now.

And Hannah is here.

And God knows Hogwarts could use a Defense against the Dark Arts instructor who isn't a werewolf or an escaped Death Eater or a total git like Dolores Umbridge.

And if you both stay at Hogwarts, maybe you can keep everyone safe.

For a while.

So now it's spring, and you're naked, and you're holding her in your arms in the great oak bedstead in the Room of Requirement, and you're having a panic attack, because all of a sudden you just remembered that this is how babies are made.

Oops.

And even if you're not planning—well, the thing is, things can happen, even if you don't mean for them to. Even if you think you're in control. Even if you're a prefect.

The war has taught you a lot about that.

And you think, I'm seventeen, and this is all happening much too fast.

And then you think, why not?

Because sometimes it's possible to be too safe.


	6. After the End

**After the End**

The wand is bright. It is very, very bright, and she can only see colors. Bright colors superimposed on black. And a voice says, "Susan, open your eyes." And another voice says, "She's asleep." And another voice says, "She's unconscious." And the first voice says, "Susan, can you hear me? Susan, open your eyes."

She opens her eyes.

Outside the window, it's raining, and she thinks, the curtains are wrong. Wrong for home and wrong for school. Except that I'm not in school anymore. Or am I? I don't think I took my NEWTs. I don't remember taking my NEWTs.

She's staring at a Healer, a short, stout, red-haired little witch in lime-green robes, who is poking a very bright wand in her eyes.

So it must be St. Mungo's.

A good thing, too. Because she doesn't feel good. Her head hurts, and her vision is blurry, and even though she can see red hair and green robes, she wonders if she is blind. She is very glad to be in St. Mungo's.

The Healer says, "Follow the light."

Susan says, "Do you think I'll be blind?"

Her mother pats her hand.

And all of a sudden she thinks, she was pregnant. I always thought it was a photograph. My mother was pregnant, and she went to my Uncle Edgar's house. One fire and five dead bodies, and she screamed. She screamed and screamed, and she was pregnant, and the baby was me, and that's why I remember something that happened before I was born.

If I had been pregnant when—

Well, I wasn't.

Thank God.

And her mother takes her hand, and she says, "I like your boyfriend."

And Susan thinks, boyfriend? I don't have a boyfriend. At least I don't think so. But I'm very confused. I'm remembering things that I shouldn't remember, things that happened before I was born, and I can't remember things that happened this year, or that should have happened this year, like whether or not I took my NEWTs.

Aloud, she says, "Why is it daylight?"

Her mother says, "It's eleven o'clock in the morning."

Susan thinks for a minute. She says, "Tuesday?"

Her mother holds her hand. She says, "Wednesday. It's Wednesday, dear. You slept for a long time." She picks up a little plant from the night table and she says, "He left you this."

Susan looks at it. It is a small gray cactus covered with boils. It is unattractive, but it has an amazing defensive mechanism. She has seen plants like this before.

She has a pretty good idea, who might have left her this.

Even though she's having trouble remembering a lot of other things.

Aloud, she says, "Is Voldemort gone?"

Tell me please, tell me please, tell me please that Voldemort's dead. Tell me I don't have to fight anymore. Tell me I won't have to wake up again in St. Mungo's with my head hurting and my vision blurred, remembering things that happened before I was born and wondering if I'll be blind.

Her father shudders. She has never heard her father say the name. And she realizes now, her father has never heard her say the name. It was only after she started fighting him that she started saying the name. Her mother says, quietly, "yes." Yes, he's gone. But her father just shudders, because he's never said the name, and he's never heard her say the name, and he's practically the last Bones in the world. And Susan realizes, all of a sudden, if she's counting right, that she and her father are the only two Boneses who have survived Lord Voldemort.

She is the very last Bones in the world.

And if the wizarding world had had an aristocracy, the Boneses would have been it. The citations, the decorations.

The graves.

So that's what she's got now, graves. Graves, and a handful of OWLs, because as she wakes up, she's starting to feel pretty sure that she didn't take her NEWTs. She would probably remember it, if she had taken her NEWTs.

She did take her OWLs. She remembers that.

The door opens, and Neville walks in. He is three inches taller than he was last week. Well, he probably isn't, but he looks like he is, if you're lying in a bed in St. Mungo's and your head hurts and your vision is blurred and you're wondering if you're going to be blind.

And she thinks, Neville, you're walking.

He walks right up to the bed. He hands her another potted plant, and this one is pretty. He says, "Susan, you're awake." He sounds happy and surprised.

And she thinks, Neville, you're talking.

Neville, why are you walking? Neville, why are you talking? We thought you were the most incompetent—well, very, very sweet. Everyone likes Neville, and he's always been a very good sport. But Neville, why are you walking, Neville, why are you talking, Neville, why are you coming to visit me in St. Mungo's when I'm pretty sure that everyone else who was there last night (Monday night? Sunday night?)—well, I'm pretty sure that everyone else who was there is checked into St. Mungo's too. Or is contributing to the fact that I am now the very last Bones in the world.

But in spite of this worrisome situation (and she's getting more worried every minute, as she starts to wake up), Neville is walking and talking and coming to visit her in St. Mungo's.

And Neville was there.

Aloud, she says, "Neville, why are you wearing a suit?"

And he says, "Hannah and Ernie are getting married this afternoon." And he says, "It's quick, but it's time." And he says, "It's awkward, but you don't postpone a wedding." And he says, "Didn't you know?"

Well, no, I didn't.

Well, of course I did. I knew the morning after Albus Dumbledore died, when I saw Hannah on the floor of the Hufflepuff common room, poking Ernie and prodding him and kicking him and cuddling him, and telling him he had to stand up and be a prefect. And I really, really didn't understand why Ernie ever tried to say he loved me, when he was so obviously—but I didn't think about it much, because I had other things on my mind, the morning after Albus Dumbledore died.

But now that you mention it, I don't think they ever actually told me. No. Which is not to say I blame them. Even though Hannah_ is_ my best friend. Because even though I was technically still at Hogwarts last year, I wasn't really around much.

And Hannah always had to pretend she didn't notice I was disappearing.

Aloud, she says, "Neville, do you remember if I took my NEWTs?"

He looks embarrassed and he kicks the floor. He says quietly, "No, Susan, I don't think you did."

And then he grins. He says, "I didn't take them either."

So I guess we'll both be taking them next year.

And maybe by then I'll have a boyfriend.


End file.
